Once a Warrior (22 page)

“He is much better,” commented Agnes, sounding surprised.

“Yes,” murmured Ariella. She firmly reminded herself that three days ago he had been unable to straighten his back. “He is.”

Malcolm struggled to keep his gait even as he crossed the floor, painfully aware of everyone’s eyes upon him. This was the first time the clan had seen him since he had been thrown off his horse, and he was anxious to appear strong and fit. In truth, he was feeling much better. Ariella’s gentle, persistent treatments of massage, heat, stretching—and a surprising manipulation of his spine that had caused a painless cracking sound—had alleviated his suffering considerably. She had given him detailed instructions about gently stretching and exercising his back, arm, and leg, and he had tried doing so for the first time that day. Although he had been initially reluctant to attend the evening’s celebration, the sound of laughter and music filtering through the stone walls of his chamber had been irresistibly inviting. Now that he was up and dressed, he felt remarkably well.

Especially as he approached Ariella.

Her slender form was garbed in a long-sleeved sapphire gown of soft wool, which accentuated her smooth curves. Over this she had arranged a length of beautifully woven scarlet-and-blue plaid, which was fastened to her shoulder by a jeweled pin, and gathered at the waist by a finely wrought silver chain. Her hair rippled across her shoulders in brown and copper waves, like earth and fire, thought Malcolm, watching the golden waver of torchlight playing over it. Once again he was astonished she had been able to conceal her extraordinary beauty from him for so long. Were he to tell the tale to anyone who caught a glimpse of her, that person would have to wonder if he had been completely blind, or perpetually drunk.

“Good evening, milady,” he said, giving her a small bow. “Agnes,” he added, turning to her and bowing again.

Ariella nodded, surprised by his courtly manner. MacFane seemed to be feeling unusually well, yet the clarity of his blue eyes told her he had not been drinking.

“It is good to see you are better, MacFane,” said Duncan.

“Thank you.”

“Incredible that a few days ago you could barely stand,” remarked Niall. “Do you think your recovery will last?” His tone was flagrantly skeptical.

Malcolm calmly regarded the hostile young man. “I am moved by your concern, Niall. Fortunately, I received the finest care. I am confident that should my back ail me again, Ariella will come to me with her warm oils and soothing touch.”

Niall’s face darkened with fury.

So it was true, Malcolm mused. Niall was in love with Ariella. Malcolm glanced at her, suddenly concerned that she harbored tender feelings for this handsome man.

It was difficult to tell, given that she was now glaring at them both.

“Forgive me, milady,” he said, seeking to soothe her ire. He did not know if it was the occasion, or the fact that he really was feeling well this evening, but he was experiencing an unfamiliar desire to be elegant in his manner. Unfortunately, his memory of how to behave so was fragmented. “I fear I should ask you to dance,” he began, “but my condition will not permit it. May I escort you to your table instead?” he asked, offering her his arm.

Ariella looked at him in bewilderment. She had not known MacFane was capable of such graceful manners. Certainly he had made no effort to use them since they had met. But he had not always lived like an animal in the mean hut where she had found him, she realized. He had been raised in a castle as the only son of Laird MacFane, groomed from birth to assume his rightful position as the next chief. The MacFanes were a large clan, known for their wealth as well as for their army. Perhaps there had been a time when Malcolm had enjoyed feasting with his clan. Maybe there had even been a time when he had been able to dance.

Moved by the thought, she reached out and laid her hand on his arm. “Thank you, milord. I find myself weary from standing for so long.”

They walked slowly to accommodate his leg, although Ariella thought his limp was barely noticeable this evening. He escorted her to the laird’s table, where the council was seated, pulled out her chair for her, then took his place beside her. This was the first time they had sat so, and Ariella found herself strangely overwhelmed by his enormous size. It was as if the table had instantly grown smaller, and she was forced to move to the edge of her chair so she didn’t feel crowded by Malcolm’s powerful presence.

“Why are you squirming around like that?” asked Angus. “Is there something wrong with your chair?”

“I’m not squirming,” Ariella retorted.

“You’re looking fit this evening, MacFane,” remarked Gordon. “That shirt that Ewen’s wife made suits you well.”

“Thank you.”

Ariella turned her attention to the shirt, which accentuated the enormous breadth of his chest and was handsomely detailed with gold thread. “Annie made you that shirt?”

“It was a gift,” Malcolm explained. “A gesture of thanks for settling a matter between her husband and a neighbor.”

“The problem with the dog?”

He looked at her in surprise. “You heard about it?”

“This is a small clan. No one can do anything without everyone’s knowing.”

“I will try to bear that in mind,” Malcolm remarked, reaching for the pitcher in the center of the table. “Would you care for some wine?”

She nodded. He filled her goblet, hesitated, then placed the pitcher back.

“Aren’t you having any?” asked Ariella in surprise.

“I find tonight I have no desire for it.” He removed his dirk from his belt and began to serve some meat onto the trencher they shared.

“So you are really feeling well, then?”

“Yes.” He regarded her steadily. “Thanks to you.”

His eyes were clear of the mists of alcohol and pain, yet they were as unfathomable as the deepest of lochs. She felt strangely unnerved as she returned his gaze, as if she were seeing a part of him that until now he had kept hidden, or perhaps had himself forgotten existed. This was another aspect of the man once known as the Black Wolf. It was now clear that not only had he been a great warrior, he was also a man who was at ease in polite society. Moreover, he had been a man capable of exercising restraint.

It pained her to think how far he had fallen.

“It will be good to have you back training us tomorrow,” remarked Angus cheerfully.

“Angus and I have tried our best to help Gavin in your absence, but he never seemed to hear us. I think the lad is a bit deaf,” confided Dugald.

“Really?” said Malcolm. “How odd I never noticed.”

A bellowing voice suddenly sliced through the music and laughter.

“Attack! We’re under attack!”

“It’s Roderic!” announced young Colin breathlessly, standing at the hall’s entrance. “He and his men are climbing the wall.”

Silent shock pulsed through the air.

And then the room exploded with noise.

Chairs and tables were overturned as everyone ran in different directions, screaming and shouting. Some women raced to find their children, crashing into men who bellowed orders that no one was following, while others stood frozen, immobilized by fear.

It was the most appalling display of panic Malcolm had ever witnessed.

“Quiet!”
he roared, banging his fist upon the table.
“All of you, stop!”

Incredibly, the MacKendricks stopped.

“We will begin our repulse of this attack by remaining calm,” he informed them, rising to his feet. “Colin, how many men does Roderic have with him?”

“I’m not certain,” he stammered. “I think about forty.”

“And how many men and women do you see in this room?”

He looked at MacFane in confusion. “There are about two hundred fifty, but—”

“So we outnumber this sorry band of misfits and thieves by more than six to one,” observed Malcolm. He swept his gaze calmly over the MacKendricks. “This is a splendid opportunity for you to finally practice your training on a real opponent. Only this time you will not be afraid of hurting them. Is that clear?”

The MacKendricks nodded, their faces pale.

“Gavin and Duncan, take your men up to the battlements and keep those men from climbing the wall,” he ordered rapidly. “Andrew, you and your men position yourselves above the gate, in case they decide to ram it. Elizabeth and Agnes, lead the women to the towers and shoot anything that moves. Helen, hide the children and the elders downstairs in the secret passage we have been excavating. Take a bow with you, and shoot whoever tries to come through the entrance. The rest of you, fetch your weapons and shields and assume your assigned positions within the courtyard and the castle, in case they manage to breach the wall.
Move!
”

Still shaken, but considerably calmer now that someone was in command, the MacKendricks surged out of the hall to defend their castle.

Ariella knocked over her chair in her haste to follow them.

“Where are you going?” demanded Malcolm.

“I must make sure Catherine is safe, then change into Rob before I go up to the wall head,” she explained quickly.

“He already knows you’re alive, Ariella. That is why he has returned.”

She shook her head. “You can’t be certain of that.”

“Even if he doesn’t know, there is a traitor in your clan who will tell him,” he pointed out. “Fetch Catherine and join Helen and the children in the secret passage. You will stay there until I come for you.”

“I cannot stay there,” she protested. “I must help my clan fight.”

“Listen to me,” he ordered, moving toward her. “For whatever reason, I believe it is you Roderic wants. Therefore, you make us vulnerable. No one here will continue to fight if you are captured and threatened with harm. You
must
stay out of this, Ariella.”

It was impossible, what he was asking of her. She could never stand by while her people were in danger. “I cannot.”

Anger flooded through him. “You will do as I say,” he snapped impatiently, “if I have to goddamn well drag you downstairs and lock you in there myself!”

“You don’t understand, MacFane,” she whispered, hugging herself tightly. “He will kill them, one by one, until I come out.”

Her voice was trembling, betraying her fear. Malcolm felt his resolve weaken, so completely did he understand her feelings. She loved her people and would rather die fighting to protect them than hide in a dark corner while they fought for her. But he could not permit it. If Roderic found her, it was the end.

And he could not command this battle unless he knew she was safe.

“I will not let Roderic murder your people the way he did before,” he vowed adamantly. “Do you hear? If anyone dies, it will be as they fight to defend themselves, not as they stand helpless before him. But in order to direct our defense, I must know you are safe. I cannot risk that you will be killed or captured.” He reached out and grasped her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she admitted reluctantly. “I understand.”

Her beautiful face was pale but calm. Yet he could see fear clouding her wide gray eyes. In that moment he felt an overwhelming desire to draw her close, to wrap her in his arms and soothe her with gentle words.

“All will be well, Ariella,” he promised, knowing it was foolish to make such an impossible assurance.

She searched his eyes, desperate with the need to believe him. And there, beneath the cool facade of confidence, she saw a flicker of uncertainty. “You don’t believe that, MacFane,” she challenged fiercely, freeing herself from his grasp.

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close. “There is one thing I do know, Ariella. Roderic will not harm you,” he swore, his voice low and harsh, “because I will kill him first.”

His hold on her was painful, and fury burned hot in his gaze. She was about to jerk away from him when he suddenly released her. Anger still lined his face, but there was something else in his expression she didn’t understand. His eyes shadowed with regret, he reached out and trailed his fingers with aching gentleness against her cheek.

“Go downstairs, Ariella,” he commanded quietly. “I have a battle to fight.”

He turned and climbed the stairs, slowed only marginally by his limp. Ariella watched him until he disappeared, uncertain what to do.

Then the first shouts of battle erupted, and she rushed up the stairs to fetch Catherine.

“Take that, ye fat, hairy swine!” shouted Ramsay as he and Duncan heaved an enormous stone over the parapet.

They watched cautiously through the crenelle as the stone found its mark, slamming into the huge warrior who had nearly reached the top of his ladder. Raising his arms to shield himself from the heavy missile, he instantly lost his balance and toppled backward, taking the ladder and all the men below with him.

“Got him!” exclaimed Duncan triumphantly.

“Actually, we got four,” Ramsay corrected, slapping him on the back. “Look, two of the bastards are up and running away.”

“They nearly have the battering ram in position,” shouted Gavin to the men above the gate. “Is the water ready?”

“Yes!” yelled Andrew as Graham dumped one final steaming bucket into the heavy cauldron.

“Wait,” ordered Gavin, watching as Roderic’s men ran forward. “Wait—wait—
now
!”

Andrew and his men heaved the hot cauldron onto its side, showering the attackers below with scalding water.

Roars of shock and pain filled the air as the warriors dropped their timber and hastily retreated from the gate.

“Excellent!” praised Gavin. “Keep that other cauldron ready!”

“They’re climbing up the back!” shouted Malcolm as he emerged from the castle, sword in his hand. “Groups one and two, get back there and keep them from climbing up!”

Those MacKendricks from the first two training sessions instantly abandoned their positions and ran along the wall walk to defend the other side.

“Spread out on this side!” commanded Malcolm. “Fill in the gaps!”

“Gavin, would you please step to your right?” called Elizabeth, carefully aiming her bow and arrow at him.